


For Your Love

by billtheradish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: teenwolfkink, Gen, Kink Meme, Pygmalion, velveteen Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billtheradish/pseuds/billtheradish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sourwolf was the grumpiest, angriest looking stuffed animal Stiles had ever seen, but he was soft and warm and the perfect size for squeezing. When his mom was sick, he hugged Sourwolf sometimes, instead of her. It wasn't as good, but it helped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Your Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alvina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alvina/gifts).



Stiles' mother made him, so Stiles loved him. Sourwolf was the grumpiest, angriest looking stuffed animal Stiles had ever seen, but he was soft and warm and the perfect size for squeezing. When his mom was sick, he hugged Sourwolf sometimes, instead of her. It wasn't as good, but it helped. He smelled like her a little, still.

After she died, Sourwolf smelled more and more of Stiles and tears, and less of his mother.

\-----

Sometimes, when he was asleep, it felt like someone was hugging back.

\-----

Stiles grew up, but he never put Sourwolf away. Sourwolf had pride of place next to his computer during the day, so Stiles could reach out and grab him for a hug whenever he needed the contact (and, inevitably, chew on Sourwolf's ears, because they wound up close to his mouth and that's just what happens to things that are close to his mouth).

Sourwolf guarded his phone when he was at home, because for some reason he never got distracted between turning off his meds alarm and actually, y'know, _taking his meds_ , when Sourwolf was watching. It was like the little wolf could glare his brain into submission.

And damn, wouldn't that be nice.

\-----

It got harder and harder to remember his dreams, until there was just a vague sense of comfort and safety left in the morning.

Then that faded too.

\-----

Stiles snatched his phone up and viciously jabbed the button to turn off the alarm. He let his arm flop over his eyes, groaning. "It's Saturday. I don't want to get up."

He almost drifted off again, he had _nearly made it_ back to sleep, but it felt like something was jabbing him between the eyes.

"Oh my god, I hate you," Stiles groaned, heaving himself up and glaring at Sourwolf before going to take his meds.

Sourwolf just sat on the desk. Any smugness was entirely in Stiles' mind, obviously.

\-----

It had been years since he'd hugged Sourwolf. Since he'd _really_ hugged Sourwolf, that is, not just a quick comforting squeeze. 

But wow, did he need it now.

Scott had been bitten by _something_ , probably a werewolf, and had gone soppy over the new girl at the same time, making him about ten times the hormonally damaged wreck that he normally was. And of course, he wasn't listening to Stiles.

"...because werewolves _don't exist_. When I mean, _hello_ , he seems to _be one_ now, which kind of argues for the whole existing thing. However improbable, right?"

Unsurprisingly, Sourwolf didn't have anything to add to the conversation. Stiles rubbed his cheek against the top of the toy's head. Not that he was crying. His cheek just...itched. Like there was something drying on it. Or something.

"I don't know what the fuck to do. I'm worried he's gonna hurt somebody, probably me, but he won't _listen_." Stiles sighed, burying his face in Sourwolf's gradually thinning fur. "I wish you were real. Like, alive real, not just tangible. You'd probably have some sort of wolfy knowledge to share. And you're kinda too small to eat us, so that'd be nice."

Sourwolf still didn't have anything to add, but Stiles felt a little better.

\-----

The alarm on his phone went off. Stiles flailed a hand out and turned it off, grudgingly getting up and tromping to get his meds.

Sourwolf wasn't there when he put his phone back, but he'd been hugging the stuffing out of the toy, so he was probably just crammed by the side of the bed or something.

He'd figure it out when he woke up for real.

\-----

Sourwolf wasn't next to the bed.

He wasn't hidden in the blankets, crammed between the pillows, _under_ the bed, on the desk, or somehow hooked to the light. Stiles had checked the trash can, his bags, the bathroom (maybe he'd still had him when he went for his meds? but no), the closet, the laundry hamper, the pile of laundry not in the hamper, under his desk, and just about everywhere else.

What the hell. Stuffed animals didn't just _walk away_.

\-----

There was a new face in Beacon Hills after that. Not much taller than Stiles, but he had the dark and handsome down. Also the creeper, since he always seemed to be standing at the edges of whatever was going on. Staring.

Specifically, staring at Scott and Stiles.

So, yeah. Creeper.

\-----

Stiles' room had never in his life been cleaner, but Sourwolf was still nowhere to be found.

\-----

His cellphone alarm went off. Stiles swore and reached out, turning the alarm off without looking and shoved his face back into his pillow. 

A few moments later, a glass of water thunked hard against the table.

Stiles hadn't moved.

So...

There was a low growl and Stiles jerked upright, scrabbling backward and away from Mr. Dark, Handsome Creeper. Who was in his room. Randomly. In the night/morning/night, sort of pre-dawn period.

"What..."

"Take. Your. Meds. Stiles."

Stiles blinked as Mr. DHC shoved his prescription bottle at him. "Um. What?"

In answer, Mr. DHC just stepped in closer and physically put the bottle into his hand before stepping back and glowering at him. Stiles checked the bottle but, yeah, those were his pills. They were even the right pills in the bottle, and didn't have any sort of weird stickiness or powder on them. So...

Yeah, no. What the hell?

"Who are you?"

The creeper glowered and headed for the window. "I'm still working on how to help with Scott. I'll see you tomorrow."

He vanished, and Stiles gaped after him.

What. The. Hell.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Derek is a wolf plushie in Stiles' room who gets one day to be a "real boy".](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/6131.html?thread=5511667#t5511667)
> 
> There's also a reference to an infamous Sherlock Holmes quote in this fic. For those unfamiliar, it's "when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth".


End file.
